FPC Day 11 - Cope

You can still hear the rhythmic thudding of the treadmill over the music. You have your headphones on, but the Lodge’s tiny fitness room has bad acoustics. You are the only one working out. Everyone else is calling family, eating snacks, or lounging around the Lodge as the day wears on.

You really wish it wasn’t raining so you could run outside, but… you have to do this.

Your boobs are slowing you down. They aren’t just extra weight. The way they bounce around when you move affects everything that you do. You have to get your speed back, and that means working hard. You have to turn your cardio up to 11 and become like Duni. And just these breasts add at least ten pounds to your overall weight, so you have to become stronger in general. You can recapture some speed and agility, but you have to train in a very deliberate way to make it happen.

It’s not easy. You run hard with the treadmill set at its highest setting, basically sprinting. Even in the sturdiest sports bra you have, the amount of jiggle going on is insane. You have to learn to ignore it. You’ll also have to ignore the pain your boobs themselves and your lower back. It’s the only way… because Lara is right.

You aren’t a perfect captain, but you are a better captain than her because you care about soccer. Lara enjoys soccer, but it’s not her passion, and she is not committed to this team the same way that you are.

But you don’t want to think about Lara’s ideas about commitment, because you just had full-on romantic sex last night, and now she’s telling you that she might just leave any time she feels like it. It’s not like you’re married, and you’ve barely known her for a week, but it’s still… something that you have to adjust to.

You can’t take anymore. Your lungs are on fire, your body feels like lead, and you feel like you need to throw up. You slam the stop button and jump off the treadmill, wheezing. You stand with your hands on your hips, panting. The walls are mirrors, so you have **** but to see yourself in your black sports bra and matching, tight, black shorts. Some of your skin is pale, some is sunburned, and it’s all glistening with the sweat that’s dripping off you. Stray, red hairs cling to your face. You look like hell, but this is what training is. FUTA is a TV show, but you are no an actress. You’re an athlete.

You totter over to the weight bench and sit, and that’s when you notice that Lara is here. She’s in the doorway, watching you with a concerned expression. You haven’t spoken to her much since this morning. You told her that you had to think about what Annette said. You’ve been thinking about it.

You lie back on the bench and stare at the ceiling.

“What’s up?” you say.

“You all right?” she asks, approaching. Her eyes are on your heaving chest. You still don’t have your breath back.

“I’m frustrated,” you admit.

“I see that.”

She kneels between your legs, and you look up in surprise. You can’t possibly mistake her intent, but this isn’t your room, and there was no lead-in at all. This is the fitness room. She didn’t even see anything.

She just jerks your sweaty shorts down and grabs your soft cock in her hand. You open your mouth to ask what the hell she’s doing, but even when you’re soft, her fingers send feelings through your whole body. You make a startled sound, and your cock starts to swell. You look in panic at the door, which is closed, but Lara just doesn’t seem to care. You’re half-hard when she swallows your cock. Not a word, not a kiss, not even a slutty look up at you, she just sucks noisily.

You can barely keep yourself from falling off the narrow bench, let alone form words. Your body shudders and your toes curl in your running shoes. You’re totally hard now, and her fingers are around your base as her mouth goes up and down on the shaft. Her other hand strokes your lips down there, and as soon as you’re ready, she slips a finger inside.

She lets your cock out with a pop and strokes it vigorously. Your breaths are short, shallow, and sharp. The noise you make when she finishes you off sounds like you’re ****. Shiny strings erupt over your belly and chest, standing out clearly on your skin and the black sports bra. It’s a lot, but all you see are the lights on the ceiling, swimming as you lie there.

Then Lara’s face blocks them out, and she comes it to kiss you.

You lie there, shorts down, cock out, cum everywhere, kissing her in the fitness room. Anyone could walk in, but you aren’t thinking straight. You just better hope that Lara is.